


Laughing at my woes

by Seek_The_Mist



Series: Requests from the void [2]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domesticity, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fill, Rimming, Slice of Life, afternoon sex, prisoner!auguste
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 12:57:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20210143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seek_The_Mist/pseuds/Seek_The_Mist
Summary: We begin the instalments of "Mist says Rare Pair Rights, Captive Prince edition", with linecrosser and nikanndros's Augandros anons that escaped and came to get me in my askbox!From this prompt list:“Your ass is gonna be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.”





	Laughing at my woes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kittendiamore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittendiamore/gifts).
  * Inspired by [On a Pedestal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17970071) by [Kittendiamore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittendiamore/pseuds/Kittendiamore). 

> We begin the instalments of "Mist says Rare Pair Rights, Captive Prince edition", with linecrosser and nikanndros's Augandros anons that escaped and came to get me in my askbox!  
  
  
[From this prompt list](https://seekthemist.tumblr.com/post/184687397419/smut-prompts): **“Your ass is gonna be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.”**  
  


  
  
  
  
The door of Nikandros’s quarters opened with that unique way that could only accompany Auguste in his entrance — never subdued like a servant or somewhat ready to fall in line, but still carefully analytical. Maybe, in another life before Nikandros had known him, he was the kind of man to walk into rooms like he owned them regardless of who waited on the other side.

Nikandros turned around on his chair, away from the sunlight that bathed his desk crowded with papers. He was already smiling without being able to help it.

“Your ass is gonna be seven different shades of red after that little stunt”

Auguste moved even more carefully than usual in closing the door behind him, a little grimace on his face — considerably less gaunt than when Nikandros had found him, handsome in a distracted way.

“I’m aware of it…we can call it the price of raising the new generations.”

After having watched Auguste with a flock of children of soldiers, all aged between five and eight years old, for the best part of the last two hours, Nikandros could not help but laugh.

“Does that qualify as training in Vere?” he asked, without even trying to hide his amusement.

“That qualifies as mutiny,” Auguste replied, hard-suffering but not cross, as he divested most of his garments and his shoes to give himself a wash at the basin.

Nikandros laughed away, helplessly.

“Is that how you spent your time up here?” Auguste asked, “Laughing at my woes rather than working?”

“That’s mostly accurate, yes.”

At first it had been just the over-excited shrills of the children — entertained and delighted by this foreign man paying them attention. Then it had been the general commotion, brought upon by all the kids breaking any rank Auguste had tried to organise them in to gang up on him. Auguste had taken it with the same good humour that made Nikandros think he must have been a cherished older brother — one his family would want back at any cost, if only they knew he was alive. Still, “the mutiny” involved a whirlpool of tiny humans, reaching no higher than Auguste’s waist, all armed with with wooden swords and aiming them anywhere they could reach — a general area from the middle of Auguste’s thighs and his ass.

Auguste was going to be sore — and _bruised_.

“Let me give a look at you,” Nikandros said, beckoning Auguste with an outstretched hand.

Auguste folded the wet towel he had been using, neatly, next to the basing. “I’m sure it’s fine, it won’t be worse than days riding at forced pace during a campaign.”

Still, he came forward, fitting neatly between Nikandros’s spread legs — golden and bare chested in the early afternoon light. Nikandros remained seated and placed a kiss at the centre of Auguste’s stomach — growing taut and strong by the weeks, health and nourishment giving strength back to his muscles. Those same muscles jumped under the touch of Nikandros’s lips, and it was nice to know that he had Auguste’s full, unchallenged attention.

“Better now than, regretfully, tomorrow,” Nikandros argued — knowing that he didn’t really need to — while undoing the laces of Auguste’s breeches.

He heard Auguste swallow a bit, a small ripple of sensitivity running all the way to his cock, making it twitch even under perfunctory touches. Nikandros guided him to turn around with a small nudge on his hips and Auguste went easily, with his trousers caught at knee-height and his ass in full display — but just for Nikandros to see.

There were, indeed, some red lines immediately evident on Auguste’s skin, crossing over in the clumsiest pattern. It all promised to swollen up quickly.

“They really put an effort into it,” Nikandros considered, with a low chuckle, running the back of his fingers up and down Auguste’s thighs with both hands. “If I hadn’t seen how they love you, I would have thought this to be a malicious attack.”

“I told you it’s fine,” Auguste replied, two seconds later, without articulating as he usually would.

“That doesn’t mean it couldn’t be better.”

Nikandros argued, picking up a jar of oil from his desk that came with the indistinct use of chapped hands in the winter and sharpening the blades of paper cutters. He poured some on his hands, rubbing it together, and felt Auguste stiffening to stillness even before Nikandros went back at touching him — slippery, now, soothing.

It wasn’t a bad tension — more like _anticipating_.

Looking at Auguste all too intently — and feeling tighter in his own trousers by the minute — Nikandros commented inanely on the kids, what they knew of their families, what were his own memories with them if he had any. It was the type of chat Auguste enjoyed, normally. But now he mostly hummed back to Nikandros without any real meaning, agreeable sentences that had the feeling of a placeholder.

“Are you ignoring me?” Nikandros asked, suddenly, with the oil mostly absorbed on Auguste’s skin — looking less red already.

“No!” Auguste protested, but flinched minutely under Nikandros’s knuckles brushing at the curve of his cheeks. “You’re just…being very distracting.”

Nikandros felt himself smiling, feeling more smug than he did as a teenager at the King’s court, when the world had seemed at his disposal.

“I’m holding a leisured conversation,” he countered, in a clearly fake protest. “If I wanted to be distracting, I would do _this_.”

Before Auguste could reply, Nikandros took hold of both of his cheeks, spreading them wide enough to kiss between them — where Auguste was warm and a little bit giving, having taken Nikandros just the night before.

Auguste moaned brokenly, and pushed back against Nikandros’s mouth with that flattering brand of shamelessness that only a Veretian could have in the middle of the day. There was no need to reach around to know that Auguste was hard — the trembling of his uncertain stance sufficed.

Nikandros licked at his entrance with more persistent than patience, feeling to eager in himself for the way he wiggled his index finger inside just so he could thrust his tongue alongside it.

“Nik!…”

The hitching sound was far from a protest, and so was the hand that reached back to grasp on Nikandros’s shoulder — a mixture between a gesture of passion and an attempt on balancing on buckling knees.

Taking it as the encouragement it was, Nikandros gave Auguste another finger, scissoring them lightly to lick deeper inside.

He wasn’t fluent enough in Veretian to know all of their convoluted, creative swearing, but Nikandros knew the tone of a profanity when he heard one. He smiled against Auguste’s body, hearing him running his mouth.

And yet there was sort of a tension, uncertain, that still refused to leave Auguste’s body.

“You’re very tense,” Nikandros murmured, kissing at Auguste’s tailbone and keeping his fingers knuckle deep. He sounded hoarse even at his own ears. “You can relax.”

Auguste laughed under a weavering breath. “Easier said than done, I’m facing some very official-looking papers and correspondence.”

The mental picture of Auguste holding himself carefully still to be licked without soiling Nikandros’s work burned the residual edge out of Nikandros’s control.

He unfolded his chiton, one-handedly, his own cock all too eagerly jutting up when freed.

“Come here, then.”

Nikandros took his fingers out and pulled Auguste back towards him, one arm circling his waist. And Auguste just went, without even questioning — the weight of him pressing Nikandros down on the chair when he seated on his knees.

“Oh f-…”

Auguste broke off with a moan, with Nikandros’s erection teasing his rim — not quite surprised, but shaking at the sensation of it. But he was spit-slick and open and it was all too easy for Nikandros to hold him tighter and thrust his cock in.

He was halfway in when Auguste clenched around him, nails digging in Nikandros’s forearm, mindlessly. Nikandros just held him tighter and guided Auguste to lean against his chest — his cock all the way inside him.

“Wait!…_ah_…waitwait…”

The mumbling was fairly incoherent but Nikandros stilled, catching all the signals of an overwhelmed Auguste. So sensitive to any contact, so close to orgasm. Nikandros wanted to touch him all over and see him go out of his mind with it, but he waited.

Auguste’s effort in rolling back from the edge was valiant, shivering on Nikandros’s lap and breathing shallowly. It was also partially pointless, because just nosing his head around to claim Nikandros’s mouth rose goosebumps all over.

When they moved, they moved at Auguste’s call, rocking back and forth on Nikandros’s lap while Nikandros held him tight — then tighter — and dared kissing between Auguste’s shoulder blades even though the resulting choked wailing almost made him feel guilty.

“Oh, that’s so good,” Auguste hissed between clenched teeth.

“Yes?” Nikandros sighed, pulling Auguste’s back with more purpose and lodging exactly on that spot that made Auguste clench so deliciously.

Auguste moaned, nodding blindly, and came all over himself — quick to rail up and slow to calm down. It was all too easy to follow him, in plain light of day, releasing deep inside.

They stayed on that chair for all too long, disheveled like youngsters in their prime. Even when Nikandros slid out of Auguste, he still rearranged him on his lap, to catch his breath properly. Auguste’s forehead frowned, slightly, when the movement made him rub again against the fabric of the chiton, but then relaxed.

“I apologise, I hope I didn’t make it worse,” Nikandros admitted, a bit sheepishly.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Auguste replied, flopping down on Nikandros’s shoulders with his full weight and very little restriction — sore and bruised or not.  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading!
> 
> Kudos, comments and flying pigeons of appreciation are love. For everything else, the askbox of [My Tumblr](http://seekthemist.tumblr.com) is always open!


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